Justice
by RationalismIsOverrated
Summary: What would happen if the Holy Britannian Empire invaded Japan before Light Yagami ever had a chance to pick up the Death Note? Will history play out the same way? No, of course not. But with a new enemy on the horizon and no Kira to stop them, will even Light's phenomenal intelligence allow him to play a role? Or will he fade powerlessly into the background as Zero steps in?


Chapter One

"What?!" cried Detective Superintendent Soichiro Yagami. "This is madness! Britannia is preparing to invade Japan, and you're advocating we leave it alone?! Have you no pride for your country?! Or perhaps is it that—"

"What I'm advocating for is that we forgo the stupid option that is fighting!" snapped Deputy Director Koreyoshi Kitamura. "Britannia has proven itself time and again to be the most militaristically advanced force on the planet! Do you have any idea what it would be like to go up against that? To do so would be nothing short of suicide!"

"And yet that means we should allow ourselves to be subjugated?!" argued Soichiro. "This is no longer a matter of national security—it is a matter of the pride you have as a Japanese, and whether you're willing to give that pride up as an Eleven!"

"Fool!" yelled Kitamura. "Do you think that I have no pride? I am protecting my wife and my children—and if you have _ever_ conceived of yourself as a good husband or father, you should be doing the same!"

"_Protection?!_ You call what you're doing _protection_?!" sneered Soichiro. "Protection is not allowing a foreign country to invade your own—protection is not letting yourself and your family members to be reclassified as nothing more than a _number—_and protection is _not_ trying to dodge the consequences while millions of others suffer and die!"

"It seems you are confusing what is _right_ with what is _possible_!" snarled Kitamura. "I am trying to make the best of a tough situation here, Yagami! Unlike you, I will not throw myself off a cliff to try to appease some crisis of conscience, and I _refuse_ to feel guilty for something which I have had nothing to do with, and am powerless to change!"

"You are trash," growled Soichiro. "It is our duty as policemen—and more importantly, as _Japanese_—to protect our people from outside threats—and do you not think that extends to Britannia? Yet you have forsaken that duty under the guise of something as simplistic as _powerlessness_?! If you're willing to sink that low… then you're no better than the trash we set ourselves against as police!"

"Bold words for someone seemingly so eager to throw common sense out the window," retorted Kitamura, his voice deadly. "If I am trash, then I shall gladly take that title, rather than become someone who commits suicide so readily!"

"This is not a matter of that!" Soichiro roared. "It is matter of honor—something which you seem to be sorely lacking, Kitamura! I had thought you were better than this!"

"Honor?" snorted Kitamura humorlessly. "What honor? Honor in death? Honor in needlessly committing suicide even though you already know that will change nothing? Honor in doing something futile? If that is honor, then I want nothing to do with it, Yagami!"

"You…!" Soichiro trembled with rage. "Are you truly that blind?!"

"I am not the blind one, Yagami!" thundered Kitamura. "_You_ are the blind one—and as for what you are blinded by, let me tell you: needless 'pride' and 'honor' that will do nothing for you but get you killed!"

"If I die," Soichiro said contemptuously, "at least it shall be for Japan."

At this, Kitamura threw back his head and laughed. "'For Japan'? Tell me, Yagami, what will your death accomplish?"

"It will exhibit my own pride," Soichiro stated, his eyes hard, "as well as the pride of my fellow Japanese. It will show that we will not stand aside and _allow_ ourselves to fall under Britannian rule!"

"And in the end, Japan will fall under Britannian rule _anyway__s_!" retorted Kitamura.

"Better to die with honor than to live without!" answered Soichiro.

Kitamura groaned. "You won't be convinced, will you?"

"No," growled Soichiro. "I became a police officer due to my own pride, honor, and my belief in justice, and I will not forsake those beliefs for some foreign invasion."

There was a pause during which neither man spoke, their eyes drilling holes into each other. Then Kitamura sighed, breaking the silence. "Then we cannot come to an accord, Soichiro?"

"It appears not," answered Soichiro, his own voice resolute.

"…I see. Unfortunate," said Kitamura. He paused. "I hope you understand, Soichiro. You've been a good friend of mine… but I cannot allow your ideals to propagate any further, and I can't afford to place your welfare above that of the rest of the police force."

"I understand," said Soichiro, unwavering, determined.

"Very well." Another pause. Then Kitamura's voice suddenly hardened and grew less cordial, more formal. "Detective Superintendent Soichiro Yagami, you are hereby relieved of duty."

It was a far from unexpected blow, but Soichiro nevertheless had to suppress a tremble as the words fell. There was another silence, and then Soichiro gave a single stiff nod. "I can show myself out," he said.

Kitamura nodded as well, his expression unreadable. "Please do."

Soichiro turned and stepped to the doorway of Kitamura's office. As he turned the handle and swung the well-oiled hinges open, Kitamura's voice issued out from behind him once more:

"You may not believe me, but… I truly am sorry, Soichiro."

His only reply was the soft _click_ as the door swung closed, automatically locking itself once again.

* * *

"Dear!" cried Sachiko Yagami as the front door of the Yagami household opened and Soichiro Yagami, looking significantly worse for wear, staggered through.

She immediately hurried to his side, allowing him to lean on her. "What happened? H-have you been drinking?"

"What's going on?" Light Yagami, Soichiro's son poked his head out from the stairway, closely followed by his younger sister, Sayu. "Dad? You're back early?"

"There was…" Soichiro coughed. "There was an… incident… at work."

"An incident?" Light's gaze sharpened. "Regarding Britannia?"

There was a period of silence before Soichiro chuckled, his voice weak. "I can't keep anything from you… can I?"

"Mom?" whispered Sayu, looking down at Soichiro. "What's wrong with dad?"

"Go to your room, honey," Sachiko told her, and Sayu obeyed without complaint, but as she did so, Light's genius mind was already whirring:

_Dad has clearly been drinking. I know for a fact that Dad almost never engages in alcoholic consumption. In addition, Dad has never bothered to keep silent about his views—it was something I always admired him for. Given that, along with his clear enmity towards Britannia, it's not much of a stretch to conclude that he was talking about it at work. But even so, his view ran contrary to the views held by many of the commanding officers in the force… those who would rather engage in self-preservation than stand and fight. Admittedly, the logic in that approach is formidable, but it becomes easy to see why Dad would take umbrage to that. Therefore, the incident that occurred was most likely the result of an organized, negative response from the force. That, combined with Dad's early return home and the fact that he'd been drinking prior to the return trip, makes it highly likely that some devastating and traumatic event occurred. Such an event could only be…_

"You were taken off the force, weren't you?"

Sachiko gasped, her gaze instantly lifting to Light's face before being diverted back to Soichiro. "Soichiro! Tell me it isn't true!"

Soichiro's continued silence was answer enough.

* * *

It was a grave Yagami household that fell asleep that night. Soichiro lay passed out on the sofa, no doubt trying to sleep his way through the amount that he had drank prior to coming home, while Sachiko lay alone in the master bed, staring silently up at the ceiling. There were no observers nearby, but if someone had looked at her face closely, they would have observed small, almost imperceptible tear stains. It would have been easy to conclude then that she must have been crying at some point earlier, but… now she was completely silent, her expression unreadable. What she was thinking could only have been a guess to anyone, even Light.

In times of tragedy, however, the children were always impacted even worse, even—or even _especially—_when they were not told what was going on. Sayu wasn't even in bed until late into the night, sitting at her small homework desk for the majority of the period of time. She of course had no idea what was going on, since Sachiko had sent her up before Light had made his proclamation, but the moody demeanors of her parents could hardly have failed to impress her. The young girl was more fragile than her mother, however, and while Sachiko's tears had long dried, anyone at Sayu's door would have been able to hear small sobs racking the girl's lithe frame.

And as for Light… well, he didn't sleep that night at all.

* * *

Day after day… it was the same news over and over again. Always some horrendous crime being committed, people dying, rape, murder—the world was truly rotten.

And then Britannia had been thrown into the mix—they were the worst criminals of all, Light thought viciously—and the worst part was that they had the political sway to get away with it. Subjugating countries? It was a return back to the days of open conquest.

He stared up at the tall campus building at his high school. How long before it, too, fell to the clutches of Britannia? And he, Light Yagami, Japan's number one student, not being able to do a thing about it. There was no way to combat the most powerful country on Earth, after all. No amount of intelligence could help him here.

He had stayed up all night the other night, the night when his father had first been fired—something that he had rarely ever had to do. Running over different strategies, techniques—anything that could feasibly be accomplished from within the relatively small sphere of influence of a Japanese soon-to-be-Eleven high school student.

Spreading political rumors about Britannia? No, that was practically a guaranteed fail—rumors were difficult to suppress, true, but Light would have no way of affecting the Britannian Empire itself; any rumors he could start from his very limited position would run throughout the school at best and not even take off at worst. Hardly a worthy option.

Convincing the rest of the police force to take action? Unlikely. Light may have been the top student in Japan, and he may have proven himself a superb amateur at detective work in the past, but the probability of him convincing the police of the necessity of an option even he himself considered suspect was next to none, _especially_ considering that his own father had failed. Not to mention the fact that any actions the police could take would be easily countered by Britannia due to their superior military might. Knightmare Frames were very silly-looking in their design, but no one could deny their efficiency.

Any military tactic was ruled out virtually by default—Light had never studied military strategy in depth, and although he considered himself proficient at chess, that hardly translated to battlefield prowess. There were certain techniques that were almost tantalizing in their simplicity and near-feasibility, and there was a fairly high probability that Britannia was unaware of the existence of such tactics due to their primarily Japanese origin. However, each and every one required strength, coordination, and most importantly, _material_ that Light Yagami the high school student simply had no way of obtaining.

Simply put, genius was no substitute for sheer force. With equal or even comparable numbers—perhaps less but still more or less in the same ballpark—Light could think of half a dozen strategies that could work right off the bat, but any plan needed to have a starting point, and plans to combat military giants tended to have relatively high requirements before they could be executed. And _none_ of the plans had required starting materials of the sort Light could obtain at the moment, anyways. And once he became an Eleven, as he inevitably would, those possibilities would narrow even further.

And as Light reflected over his musings from the other night, he was amazed at the simplicity of the idea as well as the fact that it hadn't occurred to him earlier. Had he merely been too sleep deprived to think of it?

He needed more time.

If his possibilities would narrow as an Eleven, he needed to take advantage of everything he had _before_ that happened. Better yet, he needed some way to _expand_ his range of options before the inevitable fallout arrived. In other words, all of his plans were stifled by one thing—a lack of sufficient time to execute. He had even said (thought?) it himself: nothing of the sort he could obtain _at the moment_.

_He needed more time._

Light Yagami, Japan's top high school student, son of former police chief Soichiro Yagami and genius extraordinaire, allowed himself a small smile.

_When faced with a lack of options, make more. If the end goal is not immediately available, take intermediate steps in order to reach a more advantageous position, continuing until such a time that the goal _is_ possible to achieve._

It was a classic concept in chess as well. Contrary to popular belief, genius moves didn't spring out of nowhere—at least, not if you were playing a halfway decent opponent. If your opponent would be able to uncork some sort of brilliant tactical maneuver within the position on their next move, you didn't just sit by and let it happen. You had your own turn, after all, and any amateur would know to steer the course of the game away from _any_ sort of position where a "genius maneuver" was possible for the opponent.

Instead, such so-called "genius moves" were simply the final move in a sequence of moves, all intended to gain some sort of advantage. Indeed, when faced with a disadvantageous situation in chess, the thing any player would know to do would be stall—refuse to exchange pieces, refuse to simplify—and all the while, make moves which increased their options. At the end of a stalling period, when the advantage had been built up enough, _that_ was the time for a "genius move", but that move was not inherently existent unless the player themselves brought it into being.

That had been Light's oversight. He had been seeking some way, some move, some genius maneuver, which would gain him an immediate advantage over Britannia. Spread political rumors, convince the police force, military tactics—all of that to instantly turn the tables. But just as in chess, no such move would simply come into being. After all, not even a genius intellect could devise a strategy that didn't actually exist, and Britannia was far too careful to allow something as stupid as a one-move checkmate to happen.

But two-move, three-move checkmates—or, more realistically, forty-move checkmates? No one could guard against something as elaborate as _that—_but to execute such plans would require more time than he currently had.

Therefore, Light wouldn't execute those plans quite yet. Instead, he would play the first move in a sequence of moves—_gain time, stall, refuse to exchange pieces, refuse to simplify_—until such a time that the last move, that elusive "genius maneuver", was in sight.

Really, the obviousness of such an idea was thrown into sharper relief every further second he pondered the notion. And of course, Light had one more advantage: in chess, you and your opponent alternated turns, which was why the strategy didn't always work; if your opponent was good enough, they would notice and take action to prevent your buildup. It was a game of tug-of-war, where each player knew exactly what the other player was doing, if not _why_ they were doing it. Even if one player tried to be underhanded, the other would most likely notice, especially in higher levels of play. That was why most grandmasters, when faced with a significant disadvantage, usually chose to resign the game rather than play on—such a stall tactic would never work.

But Light's opponent was not just some random schmuck sitting on the opposite side of the board—his opponent was the Holy Britannian Empire. In some ways, this was a disadvantage, as he already knew, but in other ways, it could prove to be his saving grace. Because Britannia was so damn large, a single chess game with a single person became almost laughably irrelevant—Britannia didn't play chess with _people_, it played chess with _nations_.

But that also meant that any singular person would have a huge advantage; namely, that Britannia wouldn't even register what that person was doing until halfway into the chess game. And it was extremely hard to play a game with an opponent you didn't even know existed; the entire concept of alternating moves became completely impossible.

_In other words_, Light would be allowed to make many, _many_ consecutive moves without fear of Britannian retaliation, as long as he survived the opening stage of the game: the Japanese invasion. And with some luck, the Holy Britannian Empire wouldn't even notice that they were playing the smartest high school student in Japan… until it was too late.

His small smile became a full-blown smirk.

He, Light Yagami, would _win_.

* * *

**Hey, everyone. First story here; although I made a fanfiction account several years ago, I never really got around to doing anything until now. And naturally, my first story just _had_ to cross Code Geass and Death Note; I do like myself a cerebral contest, after all.**

**Be warned; my update schedule is erratic and quite often very long, but rest assured—once I begin a story, I have no intention of abandoning it. Not following through with things is a pet peeve of mine, so I make sure that I never do it, although sometimes my prolonged absence may make you wonder…**

**Also, one last thing: this chapter serves more as a prologue, so naturally it wouldn't be that long, but rest assured; future chapters will be much, much longer—I like to maintain an average of about 10,000 words per chapter, so yeah—brace yourselves.**

**That's about all for now, so I shall see you, the reader(s), next time.**

**RationalismIsOverrated (it really is, sometimes)**


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